Doors Wide Open

Gunfire rang out above Peter’s head. His eyes flickered open, his body resenting him even for that small movement. His entire body ached and the vague memory of Titan returned to the forefront of his mind. He was dead. He was supposed to be dead. Maybe he was dead and this was what came after.  

Spidey-sense be damned, he sat bolt upright. Heaven shouldn’t have gun shots, should it? Oh God, was he in hell? He didn’t think he was that bad a person. He saved people, surely that was enough for heaven. 

“What the hell?” Peter whipped around to the voice and saw a tall man with a red head. 

“Satan?” Peter asked incredulously. The man came into focus and Peter saw that it wasn’t a red head but rather a helmet. 

“What?” The man asked, matching Peter’s tone. Thoroughly confused, Peter took stock of his surroundings. He looked up, expecting a red sky, instead he was met with the cold metal roof of a warehouse. 

His spider-sense flared up again and he ducked back down. The man retreated back to the crate he was hiding behind and yelled from behind it. 

“Get over here, I’ll cover you,” he said. He poked out from behind the crate and aimed at the shooters. He made a few shots and Peter took that as his cue to move. Peter slid in next to the man, sitting up and leaning on the box. His body still hurt like a bitch and his head was throbbing from the confusion and gunfire. His ears were ringing and his eyes stung. And he was so very confused. 

The man spun back to face Peter, well Peter thought that was what he was looking at. The helmet made things difficult to tell. Another shot rang out and found its home in the wall near Peter. The man peeked out again, shot a few more times until Peter couldn’t hear the shooter. 

“Where the hell did you come from?” The man questioned Peter. 

Peter shrugged. “Good question.” One that Peter needed to find the answer to. What happened to Titan and why was this man so confused by the presence of Spider-man? Peter looked down at his suit and could still see the dust embedded in the layers. He was thrown back into a memory or Mr. Stark’s face in Peter’s last moments. Peter’s eyes welled but he refused to cry in front of this man, who Peter suspected was the Devil. Which reminded Peter, his mask was off. Jeez, one minor setback and Peter goes revealing his secret identity. He mumbles under his breath and the suit moulds over his face. The Devil man shakes his head slightly before regaining his composure. 

“And who are you?” He asks, tilting his head to the side. 

“Spider-man.” 

The man stayed silent but after a few seconds he scoffed and turned away. Peter’s vision skewed for a moment but he blinked and it was gone. He adjusted his posture to make himself more comfortable now that the shooters were done. He stretched his legs out and felt his muscles frown at him. The throbbing in his head had only increased and his eyelids drooped. 

Another pair of boots landed on the other side of the crate and the man pulled his gun out again. He popped out and trained his gun on the new person. He huffed and dropped the gun to his side. 

“Red Robin, what are you doing here?” He sighed. 

“Well, the last thing I heard was lots of shooting and shouting so I thought I’d lend a hand. Bonus, we’re not in Crime Alley so you can’t get mad,” Red Robin said, a smirk evident in his voice. Peter tried to get up but his legs gave out. Red Robin leant over the crate to look down at Peter. They made eye contact through the suit and domino mask. Red Robin’s eyebrows rise minutely. 

“You got a protégé now?” he asks Devil man. 

“No,” he practically growled. Peter dragged himself up the crate to come face to face with Red Robin. He extends his hand. 

“I’m Spider-man,” Peter mumbles while his vision goes black at the edges. He takes Red Robin's hand and shakes it weakly. His knee buckles and his sight swims. Red Robin grips his hand tighter but Peter’s vision goes dark once again. 

One clinical light came into focus above Peter. He squinted and averted his eyes. A man with a domino mask and soft smile stood to his side. His mouth was moving but Peter couldn’t hear the words. He stared at the man desperately trying to lip read but gave up. He looked around the rest of the room. A blue curtain cornered the area they were in. A small table with a variety of medical equipment lay in the corner. Peter realized with a start that he was in a hospital. 

Peter scrambled out of the bed, ignoring the man at his side who he could not quite hear. Peter stumbled and almost took the curtain down. He rustled through the curtain until he found the gap. He pushed his way through, the man hot on his heels. The room was massive, cave-like. Screens lit the room and Peter could see other areas around the cavern. 

All motion in the room Peter walked into came to a stand still. The Devil man had his hands up pointing at someone who Peter swore looked like a bat. Jeez, how out of it was he? The other man who he had seen earlier stopped typing at a massive computer. 

His hearing was gradually trickling back and high pitched squeaking from above his head caught his attention. He lifted his head to see literal bats flying around. 

Now he was definitely hallucinating. What the hell is going on? He was beyond confused. Why the fuck were there bats and who was this man who was obviously their leader? 

“...if you sit down,” the man behind Peter whispered. Well, Peter thought, he’s probably not whispering, it’s just my screwed hearing. Peter turned to look at the man behind him and observed that he was wearing a mask similar to the guy at the computer. He had a black suit on with a blue bird-like emblem on the front. Peter frowned and whirled back around to look at the others. He spun too quickly and wobbled on his feet. A stable hand held Peter’s arm and he regained his balance. 

“Come sit down,” the man behind him said again. This time Peter heard it perfectly. He flinched, the sound too loud for his messed up hearing. His accent was odd but distinctly American. Peter listened and let the man guide him to a chair near the edge of the room. 

He scanned the room again. This was not a hospital. These were not doctors. And Peter was lost, literally and figuratively. 

“Who-” Peter’s voice cracked and coughed so he tried again. “Who are you guys?”

They all exchanged a glance except the Bat man. His eyes remained trained on Peter, unblinking. The man in blue took a gentle step forward. 

“I think the better question is who are you?” He asked. 

“Spider-man,” Peter replied instantly, thankful his mask and suit had stayed on. It was the nanotech one Mr. Stark had given him on the spaceship, but if that had failed, he still had his old suit on underneath. He felt safe with the added protection. These people didn’t look too friendly. 

The one near the computer gaze flicked to the rest of his companions for a millisecond. He spun on the chair back to the computer. His fingers flew over the keys but Peter couldn’t see what he was typing. 

“Spider-man, huh? Where are you from?” The man in blue carried on. Peter narrowed his eyes. Why did these people want to know that? His spider-sense wasn’t going off anymore than usual and nothing about their body language seemed threatening. 

“New York,” Peter said slowly. This was all so weird. How the hell did he get here? He was on Titan fighting Thanos and he died. He died. 

“What’re you doing in Gotham?”

Peter looked at the man at the computer. He was facing Peter again and Peter could see that he was younger than the others. He made the assumption that he was younger than the Devil man. Although he couldn’t see his face, Devil man had a bigger build and even through the voice modulator, his voice was deep. 

Peter finally clocked what he had said. Gotham? 

“Where?” Peter asked. Peter might not have been a specialist at geography but he had never heard of anywhere called Gotham in America. 

“New Jersey?” The man in blue offered. Peter took this into account but still couldn’t think of anything. He shrugged. 

How was he in New Jersey? The more he found out, the less he knew. Peter dared to go over the events leading up to death, maybe the answer would be there somewhere. He wouldn’t touch the part where he disintegrated with a ten foot pole. 

Strange gave up the time stone and everyone regrouped. Peter checked in on Doctor Strange and he said something to Peter, something he didn’t understand. Then his hand glowed orange and he tapped Peter’s back… 

Doctor Strange sent me here…somehow, Peter realized. That’s one question answered. Now to figure out where here is. Maybe Strange sent him back to Earth to keep him safe? But he was already dead. What’s the difference between being dead on Titan and being dead on Earth? May was on Earth, so was MJ and Ned. At least he was closer to them now than he was, even if this was the afterlife. 

He died so far from home, in a place so unfamiliar. If Peter had to choose how to die, he would do it in New York, home sweet home. He would love to see May in his last moments but he wouldn’t do that to her. He had already done it to Tony and it was ripping apart from the inside. He didn’t want to be dead. He wasn’t ready. He had so much left to do, college, Spider-man, a life with MJ. 

“Do you know how you got here?” The man at the computer asked. Peter hadn’t even realized a tear had fallen down his cheek. Thank god he had the mask on. The last thing he wanted was to let these guys see him cry, that wouldn’t bode well for him. 

“Doctor Strange,” Peter said quietly, done with trying to keep secrets. The Devil man, who had looked like he had dozed off, snapped his head to look at Peter. The man in blue had an expression of concern mixed with anger. The man at the computer wore a similar look while the Bat man revealed very little. 

“Hugo?” The man in blue asked a bit too quickly. Peter cocked his head. 

“Stephen,” Peter said simply. He stopped trying to figure out how he got here because it was becoming clear that Doctor Strange put some spell on him. He instead focused on the more pressing matter: why were these guys cosplays so good (completely ignoring the fact that he was supposed to be dead. Maybe he was dead and this was the afterlife but he wasn’t ready to admit that to himself)? Like, that material looks legit. It’s akin to what his first suit from Mr. Stark gave him looked like. Safe to say, these suits could take a hit. 

“Where’d you get the suits?” Peter flicked his hand to point at the group. It took a beat for anyone to realize it was a genuine question. 

“We made them,” the man near the computer said unsurely. 

“With what?” Peter pressed on. These people shouldn’t have technology that advanced. If these guys had access to Stark Tech, then that could mean less than savoury people could as well. “Actually, better question, who. are. you?” 

“I’m Nightwing,” the man in blue started. He pointed around the room with each new name he listed. “Batman, Red Hood, and Red Robin.” 

Those sounded suspiciously real, at least to Peter’s ears they did. They genuinely called themselves that and expected Peter to as well. All the evidence put together pointed to Peter being dead. These heroes, vigilantes, whatever they were, are obviously serious about their occupation but Peter hadn’t heard of them before. 

“Am I dead?” Peter blurted out. That shocked a snort out of Red Hood. He didn’t mean to ask that, it just sort of slipped out. None of this made sense and that was the only reasonable explanation. 

“No? Why would you be dead?” Nightwing asked. Peter didn’t need to think about that for long. 

“Because I died.”

Nobody spoke for a few seconds. Peter wondered for a second if he had said the wrong thing. He didn't dwell on it because he would also have to come to terms with it. He could see the shocked silence come to an end and everyone geared up to interrogate him but a man in a crisp tuxedo interrupted them. He strode in with a tray of food, some covered up. Peter’s stomach rumbled as the smell wafted over to where he sat. 

“I think it’s best if you had something to eat, sir,” the man said. Peter took a moment to realize that the man was talking to him, his stomach distracting him. Peter nodded in response. The man carried on into the closed off area Peter slept in. Peter followed and saw him set the tray down on a table close to the bed. He took the cover off to reveal a soup of some kind. The smell became even more enticing and Peter felt his stomach rumble again. The man brought over a chair and invited Peter to sit down. After Peter sat down, the man smiled slightly.

“I suggest you get some sleep after you finish. I’ll keep the others out,” the man smiled again and then left Peter to his food. Thankful that the food was brought somewhere private, Peter took his mask off and dug in. 

The food was exquisite and did make Peter quite sleepy. He slipped the mask back on in case the tuxedo man didn’t keep his promise.